Fudge
by jupiterstar
Summary: Harry receives a birthday present from Ron and Hermione, but things get a bit messy aboard the Hogwarts Expres.


 "What _is it, Hedwig? All right, all right, hang on." Harry Potter leapt from bed and, snatching his glasses from his bedside table, walked quickly to the window. Hedwig, his snowy owl, was flapping madly there, a ridiculously large package dangling from her leg. Harry opened the window and hastily untied the parcel, giving Hedwig a friendly and thankful pat on the head.br_

As she flew to her cage, Harry ripped open the package, which he judged to be about twice the size of his own head. Inside was a large tin, but Harry searched for any sort of note that might tell him what this was, why it had been sent to him, or _who had sent it. This was, by far, the largest parcel he had every received. When he found the slips of parchment tied together, he opened them curiously; the sheets seemed familiar somehow… Then he smiled, as he recognised the careless scrawl of his best friend, Ron Weasley._

_Hey Harry!_

_Sorry, I suppose this gift's a bit late for your birthday. Hermione (she's here at the Burrow, really sorry you couldn't come. Monstrous, those relatives of yours, really) and I wanted to get you something special this year. Hermione says in the Muggle world, sixteen is sort of a special age... When you learn to drive? Not that you need to learn; you and I did a brilliant job back in second year, remember?_

_Anyway, we both got jobs to help pay for it (the Muggle sweets) – Percy had been hinting that he needed help at the Ministry anyway. When Mum heard about that, she insisted that we pay her to make the tin. Frustrating, isn't it, not being able to do magic at home still, don't you think? Anyway, I didn't want to work with Percy, but Hermione just couldn't say no. So we were his apprentices__ - that stupid git! We slaved away under his rule for nearly two months! We quit once we'd got enough money, though Hermione wasn't too keen on that._

_Hope you like it, it's some wizard sweets and something Hermione said was called fuj. I think that's how you spell it. Muggle stuff, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. The tin's really the best, though. Like I said, Mum made us pay her to make it. Honestly, I can see where Percy gets his tyrannical qualities._

_Anyway, Happy Belated Birthday and see you in a few days at King's Cross! We'll meet you by the barrier at __10:15__ so we can all get on the train together._

_- Ron_

_P.S. Hermione sent a letter along, too._

_Dear Harry,_

_I know Ron's explained the gift already, so I won't bother. I really hope you like it! The tin's the main gift, but we also sent some of your favourite candies and a lot__ of fudge. We exchanged some of the Galleons and all we earned working with Percy for pounds at Gringott's. I knew you could trade Muggle money for wizard money, but not the other way round! It was very interesting._

_It's really too bad you couldn't come to the Burrow this summer. If your aunt and uncle let you go to Diagon Alley, you'd think they'd allow you to stay here as well, wouldn't you? Oh well, we'll see you on the train in a few days (Ron told you where to meet us at King's Cross, I think. If he forgot: just meet us by the barrier at __10:15__ so we can all board together). Happy Belated Birthday, Harry!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Harry smiled wistfully at his friends' letters. He hadn't seen them all summer because of what had happened a few months earlier when the Dursleys had picked him up at King's Cross... Ron had decided to give Uncle Vernon a piece of his mind (he seemed to be trying to impress Hermione) and things had gone far worse than awry.

Sighing, Harry glanced over at Hedwig, who was now sleeping peacefully. Then he realised he had almost forgotten about the tin. Reaching over to his bedside table, he turned on the lamp, but only enough so that a soft glow filled the room. He'd learned his lesson about lights in the middle of the night all too well before.

Harry then turned to the tin, which was very beautiful indeed. On the side he was looking at, there was a picture of a Golden Snitch, symbolising Quidditch, his favourite sport. Grinning, Harry fingered the edges of the silver wings and was startled to find that they fluttered at his touch. He turned the tin to find more pictures – a lightning bolt that flashed, a pair of broken glasses that fixed themselves quickly, a gallant Gryffindor lion that roared silently, a broomstick that flew in a loop, and finally a miniature portrait of himself and his two friends smiling. There was even a picture, considerably smaller, of Draco Malfoy, just underneath the three friends, looking as icy as ever. Harry's stomach lurched when he saw it, though he didn't know why. It looked just like Malfoy, and Harry decided it was the perfect likeness of his enemy that unnerved him.

Without lingering on the thought too long, Harry opened the tin to find two boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (jumbo size), about twelve chocolate frogs, three sugar quills, and a massive load of fudge. The fudge was cut neatly into a countless number of squares and Harry, marvelling at their number, popped one into his mouth. It was delicious, and the cheery taste reminded him of all the things that were pictured on the tin... his favourite things.

***

"Now listen here, you wretched – Listen!" Harry had been daydreaming about his lovely fudge, which he had brought for the trip on the Hogwarts Express. Uncle Vernon, however, had something to say, never mind that Harry didn't really care.

"Now," Vernon barked, "Dudley's got to get to his counselling." Harry snorted; "counselling" was the Dursleys' term for Dudley's weight-management sessions, where he danced for hours on end to aerobics music. So far he had lost about a stone, as the session instructor didn't enforce a diet.

Vernon, ignoring Harry's snort, continued. "So we won't be able to help you with your bags – " at this Harry scoffed; the most they had ever done was carry his socks – an early Christmas present so they wouldn't have to send it during term. " – but we're stopping on this block because it's closer to the centre. Here, now get out." Harry looked around, and thought that they should have passed this corner if they were at all close to King's Cross.

"But... Uncle Vernon, this must be half a kilometre from the train station!"

"Get _out, boy."_

"You're not going to make me walk – "

"_Get out!" Uncle Vernon was shaking, obviously trying to suppress himself from doing anything violent. It was surprising how much he was able to contain himself now... maybe he had been doing some counselling as well._

Sighing heavily, Harry slumped out of the car and gathered his things from the trunk. After watching the car drive around the corner, he began his walk.

About half an hour later Harry, who had been walking quickly but was slowed down by the weight of Hedwig in her cage and his trunk, which didn't have wheels, arrived at the station. As he hurried inside, Harry glanced furtively around for the large clock he knew hung in the building. 10:30. He hoped Ron and Hermione would still be waiting for him. As he finished that thought, he saw the backs of two very familiar heads disappear into a barrier. Without a second consideration, Harry rushed to Platform 9 and, gritting his teeth, ran headlong into the wall there. He emerged at Platform 9 ¾, but was just metres away from Ron and Hermione, who were walking at a slow and dejected pace.

Eyes wide and unable to stop, Harry shut his eyes tightly and prepared himself for the crash. As he collided with his friends, he vaguely heard a silky voice drawl, "Look out Weasley. And Granger," in a very unconcerned tone. Malfoy.

Immediately Harry's thoughts went back to the picture of him on the tin, and wondered if he couldn't bewitch it to say something in Malfoy's voice when he touched it. Then he cut off his own thought; why was he thinking about Malfoy's voice? He cringed as he struggled to get up and help Ron and Hermione. Both were still looking a bit shaken.

"Oy, Potter, what's this then?" Harry turned his head toward that same silky voice and saw Malfoy holding his tin. Not far away, Harry's trunk lay, open and surrounded by half its former contents.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry snapped, "Not yours, that's what."

"Really? But I'd like to have a look." Malfoy began to open the tin, but Harry grabbed the top and tried to snatch the whole thing from him. The lid was not very secure and Harry only succeeded in pulling it off, allowing Malfoy a look at the contents. For some reason Harry didn't want Malfoy to see his present and did the only thing he could think of.

With a ferocious swing, Harry conked Malfoy on the head with the tin lid. He even surprised himself. Malfoy, whose expression did not change, held the tin out to Harry. Then he spoke, in a monotone.

"You'll pay for that, Potter." Now Malfoy narrowed his eyes and grasped Harry's collar firmly, leading him onto the train and into an empty compartment. Oddly enough, Harry's neck heated up from that simple gesture.

"Malfoy, I've got to get my things," Harry spat, trying to shake himself out of this fascination with Malfoy.

"Shut it. I saw Weasley and Granger packing up your trunk and taking it on board."br

"My – "

"Owl too." Malfoy's response was short.

Harry suddenly realised he was still holding the tin, but was instantly unconcerned as he wondered what Malfoy would do to him.

Once they were in the seats in the compartment, Harry set down the tin and stared stonily at Malfoy. The other boy's usually impeccable platinum-blond hair was only slightly out of place, but there was an obvious bump that was beginning to form on the side of his head.

With anyone else, Harry might have regretted inflicting so much pain... but he'd been longing to do that to Malfoy since first year. Plus, it gave him a strange, almost sadomasochistic feeling.

"Aren't you going to apologise, Potter?"

"No. I'm not sorry."

"Of course you're not. But it's the polite thing to do. Golden Boy always does the right thing, doesn't he?"

To this Harry had no response. After a few moments of silence, though, he thought he should say something.

"Well... aren't you going to give it to me, Malfoy?"

"Excuse me?" Came the sharp response.

"You know, punch me or something."

"Oh. I thought you meant... No." An evil sort of grin spread over Malfoy's pale face and his grey eyes glinted with malice. "But then... yes... too much of a good thing... Let me see that tin, Potter."

"No. It's mine."

"Do you think I give a damn? I'm quite sure you don't either. I doubt you'll eat all those sweets on your own, Potter."

Silently Harry admitted that Malfoy was right, and he handed over the tin.

Malfoy's long fingers caressed the images on the outside, as Harry had done. Harry's heart was beating at a frightening pace; he knew sooner or later Malfoy would get to his own small portrait. He was right.

"What's this..." The other boy's voice was nearly a whisper, but it retained that silky quality that made Harry's heart jump.

"A joke," he said quickly. "Hermione and Ron... thought it'd be funny... I didn't _want it there."_

"Hmm." Malfoy looked pensive, but this was different than any other sort of thoughtful look Harry had seen on his face. He didn't seem to be plotting anything now. He ran his fingers over the pictures again before opening the tin. He sifted past the wizard sweets and drew out the fudge.

"What is this shit? Certainly looks like shit..."

Harry glared.

"Wait a minute... this is some Muggle sweet, isn't it? Something that old loon Dumbledore likes. Fidge or something."

Harry laughed dryly. "Fudge."

"Whatever. Any good?"

"Yeah," Harry responded, wondering why Malfoy cared.

"Too much of a good thing..." Malfoy muttered again. After a pause – "Eat it."

"Sorry, _what? You're joking. All of it? That thing's huge!"_

"Do it. At least half."

"Still, even half's huge!"

"You know, my head hurts pretty bad, Potter. I might have to make a _potion to cure it."_

Harry swallowed. He knew what Malfoy was getting at – Snape, the Potions professor at Hogwarts, would do anything to get Harry expelled. And it would work quite nicely for him if Harry had actually _done something wrong._

Malfoy reached into the mass of fudge squares and delicately drew one out, placing it in his own mouth. He seemed to savour it for a moment and when he finished, turned to face Harry.

"It _is good. Never thought Muggles could make something as... enticing... as this. Fudge, it was called? Fudge... Mm." He plucked another from the bag and held it under Harry's nose. Then, ever so carefully, Malfoy moved the fudge to Harry's lips._

"You know you want it," he whispered. Harry knew he was right, and it was so hard to resist... He could have sworn it _was magic, and not from the Muggle world._

Either way, Harry parted his lips; looked into Malfoy's eyes, which looked softer now, and closed his own. Malfoy gently placed the fudge on Harry's tongue and instantly all apprehension faded from his mind. In no time the fervour of the moment overcame him and he found himself grabbing at Malfoy's robes.

"Damn, Potter," Malfoy gasped, "You're stronger than you look."

"In a matter of seconds, Malfoy's robes and Harry's Muggle clothes, which he hadn't changed out of, were on the floor.

***

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy lay on the floor of the compartment. Draco was sleeping serenely, and Harry was in awe at how... _normal he looked without that cold scowl on his face._

Looking out the window, Harry discovered that it was late afternoon. He sighed contentedly and reached up on the seat for his tin. Lazily he ate three pieces of fudge and looked down again at Draco. He was surprised to find that the blond boy's eyes were open and back to their frosty hue. Something had changed, though... Smiling, Harry ran his hand through the other boy's hair and found the bump the tin lid had left.

"Don't touch me." Hadn't changed that much, apparently – fickle. Harry would have been amused if he wasn't yearning to run his hands all over Draco's body again.

"Head feeling better?"

"Oh yeah..." Draco sat up and stretched languidly, extending his arms, so that one of them grazed Harry's chest slightly. "Get me another, Potter," he ordered, nodding at the tin. "Addictive."

"They are," said Harry as he handed over a piece of fudge. His and Draco's fingers touched, sending a warm shiver down his spine.

"Get dressed Potter. Just because you're good _that way doesn't mean I'd rather look at you than a mirror."_

Harry laughed. "I really can't say the feeling is mutual." He thought he saw a very slight pink tinge appear on Draco's cheeks, but the boy turned away and began to redress.

Once they were fully clothed, both boys re-entered the corridor and went opposite ways without so much as a second glance, Harry carrying his large tin. When he got a ways down the hall, he was ambushed by Ron and Hermione, who both looked very worried. Their eyes flicked over his body, seemingly searching for blood or bruises.

"What did he _do to you? Did he torture you?"_

"Oh, was it terrible, Harry?"

Harry did his best to change his grin into a grimace, but told the truth.

"It was unbelievable."

Hermione nearly fainted and Ron went pale.

"Oh, thanks for the fudge, by the way."


End file.
